London.

The audience tonight; a couple at the back - couldn't see them but I heard titters of laughter occasionally, a couple further forwards who laughed a lot but they know me and have seen this show before and were anticipating certain scenes (the 'Grace' song for example, and the nightclub bit), a guy who chuckled at the bigger moments but every now and then checked his mobile, a friendly couple - a chap I used to go to school with and his partner, they really enjoyed it if a little worried about the idea of potential audience participation, a couple who I didn't know but who grew to like me during the course of the show - I had them by the end, another couple I didn't know but the woman loved it, the man less so, my mate Julia who is just so nice anyway she was always going to like it, an American couple who laughed outrageously for most of it, I seemed to lose them a bit in the middle but had them back by the end.

And this is where the problem really is. Me. And the fact I spend far too long analysing the audience. It wasn't a bad show tonight, it was one I'd been looking forward to in a while because it's a really great venue, but - as is happening frequently these days, I came off stage with a sense that I hadn't done myself justice. It's now 1.08am, I probably shouldn't be writing this now, but so be it - I like to think it's because I'm performing a lot these days and so it's healthy to share my experiences, or I just need a rant. It was hot tonight; it's a professional venue where the audience are barely seen (unless you're like me and you're actively glaring at them) and the performer is under hot, hot lights. I spent most of the show feeling that the room is so hot, they must feel drowsy so hey - let's do this show as quickly as possible and put them out of their misery. According to my friend on the train back, she said it wasn't hot at all for the audience. If I'm to continue to grow as a professional I need to get used to venues of this calibre, and understand that even if I'm feeling a bit clammy, the audience can look after themselves.

The other issue is a strange one; I know this show almost too well now. I've performed it a lot. I'm bashing through it, absolutely storming away on a tangent. There's a difference between a show being slick and a show that's on auto-pilot and I know that audiences are intelligent and can spot the difference - so in my fear that I'm on auto-pilot (which I was in Surrey at the weekend) I tend to try even harder to please every single person in the room. American man laughed at a line but the guy behind him didn't...who do I go with here? Continue to impress the person who is enjoying it, or try and win over the man who still isn't convinced?

I need to get over this, because whilst I'm second-guessing everybody in the room (which isn't healthy anyway because, well, they might have just had a bad day today so not in the mood for laughter), the show probably does ramble a bit more than normal - the words are still coming out of my mouth, mostly in the order they should, but without as much feeling as the other part of my brain is wondering why a girl on the third row found the word 'sandwiches' written on a flipchart hilarious but isn't enjoying the song.

Don't get me wrong; tonight was a good enough show. They were mostly up for it, I gave them a show that was well worth the £7.50 they paid on the door. I just need to get over a few things that are bugging me - I've spent the best part of a year building this show, from the early lounge shows to the tour to the festivals, it's a goodun, but you wouldn't have thought so by the way I feel, every night, coming off stage. Have I forgotten to enjoy these things? I think it's simple; I need to start bloody well enjoying them, or stop doing it at all.

Anyway, 26 performances to go.